Black Rose: The Christmas Present
by Drucilla
Summary: Holtz recieves a christmas present of a most unexpected nature. Completed.
1. The Invitation

Disclaimer: I don't own Holtz, I'm just borrowing him. Because no one should be lonely on Christmas.  
  
  
  
Holtz returned to the crypt in which he laired, discouraged. This time a year ago, at least by how long he had been awake, it would have been snowing. Here in the so-called city of agenls, he did not even need the coat the demon had provided for him.  
  
The day had been discouraging enough. Even the most bloody minded survivor was at home, or something resembling it. It was the day before Christmas, a time to be spent with family and friends, or at the very least, alone. It looked as though the latter state would be the one he endured this Christmas. He thought wistfully, and with a sharp stab of pain, of the last Christmas he and Caroline had shared. Since then there had been nine Christmases alone, and this one would be more so than the last. He threw open the door to the crypt more forcefully than he thought he'd meant, stalked in and flopped into the chair.  
  
It took him some moments to notice the envelope on the table near him, and a little while longer to muster up the energy to go and look at it. Most likely it was from the damned demon, wondering why he hadn't killed Angelus yet. The more Holtz worked for the demon, the more he disliked the creature, and yet it could not be gotten rid of as easily as he'd gotten rid of the henchmen. Not for the first time he cursed his lack of foresight for agreeing to the bargain. Still... there was time. There was always time. Holtz was a patient man. He could wait.  
  
He picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hands. Excellently crafted, with his name in copper-plate script on the front. He turned it over; there was a picture of a rose. He frowned slightly. He knew that should mean something to him, but damned if he could figure out what. Shrugging, he broke the seal.  
  
"The Lady Rose requests the pleasure of your company at her celebration on this Christmas eve. Please state your reply promptly upon receipt of this invitation."  
  
He stared. This had to be magic. A celebration? And an invitation from someone of whom he knew nothing? But something about the rose was familiar...  
  
"Yes...?" he found himself saying before he could think of whether or not it was a good idea. The invitation crisped in his hands, causing him to yelp, leap backwards, and stare at the charred spot on the ground where the remains of it lay. Out of the ashes swirled more black dust than should rightfully be left after the burning of a piece of paper. Slowly, they coalesced into a rose, which glowed faintly as it took on solid form, and another piece of paper.  
  
"At 6 in the evening, walk through the door of your home with the rose. It will take you to the home of the Lady."  
  
Holtz stared. It was quite probably near that time now. At least, it had been growing late in the afternoon when he'd returned. He looked from the rose to the doorway. Whatever happened, it had been magic, and it was most likely to involve magic when he walked through the doorway.  
  
* * *  
  
Instead of the street he had expected, full of its strange lights and rushing vehicles, he was in a lavishly yet tastefully appointed foyer, which led into an equally lavish and tasteful parlor. Behind him there was the sound of a clearing throat, and he whirled to face the person.  
  
"If you will come this way, madam. The Lady prefers that all her guests be attired with equal splendour." It appeared to be a butler, or a majordomo of some sort.  
  
"The Lady?" Holtz stared at him suspiciously. This was making him more and more edgy the more he stayed in this place.  
  
"The Lady Rose, at whose invitation you are here," the man replied, unperturbed. "You recieved the invitation. You walked through the door holding the rose," he gestured down at the black-petaled rose which Holtz still held. He dropped it as though it had burned him. "You... are here at her invitation, are you not?"  
  
"Of course he is, Geoffrey."  
  
The woman who walked down the hall looked eerily familiar... and strikingly beautiful. Black hair cascaded in fashionable curls down her back and shoulders, over the equally fashionable pale blue dress that matched her eyes. Holtz actually found himself somewhat breathless at the sight of her, something that hadn't happened to him in something like fifteen years. She smiled slightly, nodding in a gesture that on her was the equivalent of a full, sweeping curtsey, and with that gesture his paranoia and caution was restored. He was reminded that he really didn't know anything about this woman, or this place in which he found himself, or, really what had happened. Already it seemed years since he'd walked through the streets of Los Angeles.  
  
"Daniel." Her voice, too, was familiar.  
  
"Do we know each other?"  
  
She smiled slightly. "I've certainly seen you before. Although you may not have seen me. We have... interests... in common."  
  
A fellow vampire hunter, he realized suddenly. She must be, and that would account for her seeming so familiar. Likely he had met her at some point, disguised as a man. There were a few who had styled themselves that way, women who had lost everything to vampires. But ... why was she here? Now? In this gown? "I.. see." He decided that that, at least, was safe.  
  
"If you would accompany Geoffrey?" she gestured into a side room where, he presumed, more formal attire was waiting for him. "He does get so nervous when guests are not properly attired." She smiled charmingly. Holtz nodded slowly; if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt. And he could overpower the butler easily.  
  
"Thank you, sir," the man said with almost palpable relief, and led him into the alcove.  
  
* * *  
  
There were already a few guests there when he emerged again, now clad in something tastefully understated yet fancy enough to probably have cost more than his customary wardrobe for the year put together. The woman in the blue dress was chatting amiably with another dark-haired young woman in a dress of deep lavender, and an older man beside her who looked so much alike her that he must have been her father. With them was a blonde man, about the same age as the two young women.  
  
"Mr. Daniel Holtz," the majordomo announced, and Holtz had a brief moment of wanting to throttle the man out of sheer irritation and the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the only one at the gathering without any sort of title. Either way, the woman approached him as though they were long-time friends.  
  
"Daniel! So good to see you this evening," she smiled, and for politeness' sake he smiled back.  
  
"My lady," he bowed, and she smiled and swept a slight curtsey.  
  
She chuckled. "No need to stand on formality, Daniel. I am Rose, between friends." She took his arm and steered him towards the other three. "This is Randall Darke, of Eire, his daughter Morgan, and their friend Damion." They all shook hands, Morgan smiling and blushing slightly.  
  
"So pleased to make your acquaintance," she murmured, and Holtz revised his opinion of her age. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.  
  
Her father, on the other hand, had a strong and sure grip and Holtz had the feeling (as he had not had in a long time) that this was a man who would command both respect and liking. "As my daughter has said," he rumbled in a soft, bass voice. "Rose has told us a little about you; she mentioned that you share work."  
  
He glanced covertly at the woman, who simply stood on the sidelines and smiled mysteriously. "Something like that," he said cautiously. Randall seemed to accept that. Before the silence became too overwhelming there was the sound of voices in the foyer again, and the majordomo announced the new arrivals.  
  
"Sebastien Kane of the East End," the man announced. Rose smiled delightedly and rushed to meet the man who, despite looking tired, pale, and walking with a cane, took her sudden embrace with equanimity.  
  
"Rose, darling," he kissed her on the cheek, returning her embrace. "You're looking particularly well. Life seems to be agreeing with you."  
  
"And with you, Sebastien?" She smiled up at him with a look of stubborn concern that Holtz could have sworn he'd seen somewhere before.  
  
"Well enough. No new investigations have been given to me by my superiors, which I am thankful for, especially at this time of the year."  
  
A policeman? Holtz wondered. Or perhaps a private inquiries agent. Rose had some odd friends indeed, he thought, as he shook the man's hand and said something polite in greeting. Sebastien stared at Holtz for a second as though he would look right through and see everything about him. His gaze was most likely what the men at Oxford had had in mind when they put the word piercing in the dictionary. Holtz finally had to look away, something he very rarely did. The man made him uncomfortable.  
  
He looked away and found Rose watching him, measuringly and cautiously. She smiled slightly and nodded, acknowledging his stare in her direction. Sebastien moved on to speak with Morgan and her father, and Rose walked up to speak to Holtz.  
  
"Sebastien is a good man," she interjected before he could get a word out, "But sometimes his work does weigh heavy on him."  
  
"His work," Holtz repeated carefully.  
  
"He is an inquisitor."  
  
"And you are a vampire hunter."  
  
She nodded once. "Among other things. A sorceress of some small skill and a hunter of demons, but yes, also a vampire hunter. I protect those who cannot protect themselves from what they cannot protect themselves against."  
  
He nodded slowly. Not quite what he had expected, but something he could accept. "And the others?"  
  
"Like you, and me, they occupy some aspect of what we do. We all share the fight against evil, against demons." She gestured around, nodding politely when a Marquis, a Lady Caitlin, Sir Ronan, and a Mr. John something-or- other were announced. "I hold this sort of gathering every Christmas, because so often it is a time of tragedy for us, or at least of great loneliness and grief."  
  
"Tragedy?" He looked around. With the possible exception of Sebastien, everyone at the gathering seemed to be happy and well. Even the inquisitor looked more old and tired than sick or grieved.  
  
She nodded. "Your own losses are not unique in this company, Daniel." He whipped his head to stare at her, opened his mouth to say something, but she continued. "Morgan, there, lost her husband, her daughter, and her young son who had just begun to ride the pony she gave him when the creatures who sought her out burned her home thinking that she was there. Caitlin has been captured and escaped from more demon lairs than she cares to number; her dress is cut so that she does not show the scars of it." True enough, the russet-haired woman's dress was unusually high cut at the throat and long in the sleeves. All that showed was her pale face, even her hands were covered with fine gloves. "And Ronan..." she sighed. "Well, Ronan placed his trust in the wrong man. I will leave it at that, because really, it is his story to tell."  
  
Holtz looked around. Everyone was laughing, or at least talking amiably and smiling... but when he looked he did see. Morgan seemed to be laughing and blushing as might a young woman of sixteen or seventeen... but the laughter never reached her eyes, and the way she never moved far from her father began to seem less like shyness and more like protectiveness. Caitlin spoke raucously enough, but the gloves she wore never seemed to come off. And Ronan, of all of them, acted like a shy young maiden, hesitant to trust or speak extensively to anyone. "So... why here? Why now? Why gather and celebrate and laugh as though nothing had happened?" It came out more bitter than he'd meant.  
  
Rose looked at him sadly."We laugh because we can no longer cry, Daniel. Because all of us, if we let ourselves cry or wail or otherwise collapse into grief we would not recover. And because every one of us here can understand, better than most of those in the circles we move, what it is like to lose that which is most precious to you, and we all know what it is to be alone at a time when it seems like the whole world has a family, a loved one, or a friend." She looked out at the room. "No one should be alone tonight."  
  
Holtz nodded slowly, though he still didn't understand. Rose smiled slightly at him, as though she guessed what he was thinking. "The night is still beginning. You will see," she said kindly, and went to welcome new arrivals. Holtz stared after her, then around at the room, flickering with the candlelight, firelight, and reflected glows from the windows. Outside the snow had begun to fall. Holtz moved to the window and watched it settle in silence.  
  
(More to come, but it's 5 am and I need to sleep :) ) 


	2. The Party

Disclaimer: Again, no one here is mine. Well, actually, most of the characters are mine, Holtz isn't. And yes, I did a little bit of background research; with the possible exception of the snows, all of these are 18th century or previous, so Holtz would, indeed, know them. I checked. :)  
  
It seemed that everyone had arrived over the course of the next hour. Holtz was introduced to a passel of varied folk including the Earl of Selkirk, a French noblewoman, a Moorish Marquis, and a trio of what he would have sworn to be gypsies, except that once the Lady Rose had brought them into the parlor they had ceased the raucuous and boisterous behavior he'd heard in the hall and behaved like perfectly civilized young men and women. Two young men, specifically, and one young woman, all with similar features. Brothers and a sister, he concluded.  
  
The parlor was becoming slightly crowded, but fortunately not too much so, and while he stood slightly apart from the main group they seemed to be content to leave him alone for the most part. Every once in a while Morgan wandered by and said a few brief words, or Rose would stop for long enough to make sure that he was all right where he was. Once, Sebastien stopped by him and they had a brief conversation about the morality of life and death that left Holtz feeling shaken, drained, peculiarly relieved and immensely disconcerted. He had a brief glass of the wine that was being passed around after that. He saw Rose stare at him after Sebastien had left, watching him as though she was trying to figure out what had happened, and then he saw her narrow her eyes and tug the man with the cane off into an alcove. He wasn't sure what happened beyond that. Slowly he was starting to get the idea that rank, here, in this place, had very little to do with social standing or wealth or anything normally measured by man.  
  
The chiming of a bell interrupted this train of thought. He didn't see where it was being rung, but Geoffrey appeared in the doorway a few seconds afterwards. "Ladies, Gentlemen... if you will come this way, dinner is being served in the dining hall."  
  
Just how big was this place, Holtz wondered. He hadn't really seen it from the outside, but it seemed to be a sizable home, perhaps even a manse somewhere. He followed the crowd into the dining hall, where the majordomo and two maids who appeared to be no more than fifteen seated them all at their places. Holtz found himself seated between Morgan's father and Ronan. Rose, as was to be expected, sat at the head of the table.  
  
The blessing was simple, but profound. "Thank you for this food we are about to recieve, Lord, and for the company in which we recieve it. Thank you for the fortunes of this year past, and bless and keep safe the ones who were not as lucky. In nomine patri et filii et spiritus sancti, amen."  
  
There was a chorus of murmured 'amen's from around the table and the first course was brought in. Soups of four savory kinds were accompanied by steamed vegetables of some sort in what he thought was an oriental style, as well as a giant roast. To Holtz's mild surprise Rose took on the role of the host, carving the roast and serving it up. Each dish was savory and delicious, some of the best food he had had in a long, long time. The dinner conversation proved to be much lighter, it seemed, than had occured earlier in the parlor, if only because there was less of it. When all dishes had been served wine was poured all around, and a toast was made.  
  
"To our teachers, mentors, and friends of the past; may we always remember how dearly they paid for the lessons we learned." There was a chorus all around to similar tunes, and Holtz cautiously sipped at the wine as the dishes were cleared and the second course brought out.  
  
The second course and the desserts proceeded much the same as the first. Rose served in the host's capacity, and toasts followed each course. The second toast was apparently "To friends, present and absent," and the third, "To the next generation." Holtz was wryly beginning to note a theme. And from the way a good half of the guests were reciting the toasts along with her, the theme was more of a tradition. Not a bad one at that, he thought, staring down at the wine in his glass.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to do that with tea," Randall commented dryly. Around them the after-dinner conversations were slowly drawing to a close, everyone more interested in letting their food settle than talking about anything in particular.  
  
Holtz chuckled, divining his meaning. "Just... thinking," he said. Randall nodded, seeming to understand, but Holtz for some reason was compelled to ask, "What does she mean by the toasts?"  
  
The other man looked down the table where the Lady was making quiet conversation with the Moorish Marquis. "Well, she's told you something of what we all share in common, right?" He nodded slowly. "One of the reasons she calls us all here is because this time of year, when everyone normally celebrates with their family, is a very sad time for us. And she believes that no one should be lonely on Christmas. However, she also believes in remembering and honoring the memories of what we've done, our friends and family. So, the toasts."  
  
Holtz nodded slowly. "I think I understand."  
  
Randall kept staring down the length of the table. "Sometimes I wonder how many of these feasts she's had, and when she started this tradition," he mused more to himself than to Holtz.  
  
Holtz followed his gaze. "What do you mean?"  
  
"As long as I've known her, she's been having these dinners... and I've known her for a long time. They say she's over a thousand years old... which I don't believe, but she can't be much younger."  
  
Holtz stared, slackjawed, from one to the other. "How old are you?" he asked, not thinking at the time enough to realize that it might have been rude to ask that. Fortunately the man didn't seen to take offense. He chuckled.  
  
"A respectable age of fifty three. As for how I know how old she is..." he shrugged slightly. "Things she says. She doesn't speak of it often, but sometimes she thinks back to a court neither of us have seen... Richard's court, or Elizabeth's. It happens."  
  
Holtz stared down the table at the young woman who seemed to be no more than twenty-five. It explained so much about her... and at the same time it explained absolutely nothing at all, and raised more questions than he was comfortable with. However, at that point they were all cheerfully herded into what appeared to be a giant ballroom, appointed at one end with couches to form a sort of miniature lounge, and he had no opportunity to question her further.  
  
* * *  
  
Half an hour later Holtz still hadn't gotten to talk to the woman, nor was he any closer to figuring out where he knew her from. If she really was a thousand years old as that man had claimed, it might explain why she looked familiar; he could have run into her at either point in his life. And yet, there was something...  
  
For now, though, his surroundings and the company he found himself in were doing an excellent job at keeping him distracted. Randall had proved to be an interesting conversational companion. They had been joined briefly by the Moorish Marquis, who proceeded to say something acerbic and dryly witty about everyone in the room before moving on without them being any the wiser as to who he was or where he was the Marquis of. Shortly thereafter they were joined by Ronan and Morgan, the one seeming to court the other.  
  
Time passed slowly now, or it seemed to, and as the night wore on he found himself becoming more and more relaxed around the three of them, even with their friends slipping in and out of the conversational circle. He wouldn't have burdened Ronan with it, but when the young man went off to fetch water for Morgan he found himself telling her and her father about Caroline, and about Angelus and Darla, and what had happened that day and that evening.  
  
Morgan took it better than her father, which surprised him in a way. "I remember what that was like," she said softly after he had told her the story. "You never forget the smell of your children burning alive in a slow pyre." Her voice was almost more bitter than his had been.  
  
"No," he said half to himself, "Not really."  
  
"I was out riding that day, you know..." she said softly. "It was the first day in a long while that I had discharged all my duties in time to go riding while it was still light out. I'd just gone as far as two hills over, which on those horses was not far at all. I'd spent some time with a friend there and was heading back when we saw the smoke over the hill."  
  
"And when you realized, you ran back as fast as the horse could carry you, knowing that you weren't going to arrive in time, wishing you could go faster. Wishing you had known, or seen what would have happened. Wishing you hadn't left them alone."  
  
Morgan nodded slowly. "When I finally arrived, the entire house was ablaze. I couldn't see anyone, not even the few servants we had about the place. My horse, as horses will, took fright and ran, dumping me on the ground. I don't think I even noticed."  
  
It was Holtz's turn to nod. "And even after years have gone by... there still must have been something you could have done."  
  
"Something you failed to do. But there wasn't."  
  
Morgan's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. Holtz actually felt slightly bad about bringing it up... but it had been good to finally say it, to tell someone. And from the relieved expression on her face, it had done her some good as well. Ronan returned after an overly long run to the kitchens, and the vampire hunter had the distinct impression he'd done it deliberately, to give them time to talk.  
  
"Everything all right, then?" the young red-headed man asked, smiling slightly as though he knew what had happened, which he probably did.  
  
"Yes, Ronan," she smiled slightly at her friend. "Everything's all right."  
  
Holtz nodded too, and actually found it in himself to smile reassuringly. Ronan nodded, smiling slightly back. Randall stood over them all, looking for all intents and purposes like a protective parent. Holtz was deciding whether to be irritated or amused (or even pleased) when the first notes of the piano chimed through the room.  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh the snow it melts the soonest  
  
When the winds begin to sing  
  
And the corn it ripens fastest  
  
When the frost is setting in  
  
And when a young man tells me that my face he'll soon forget  
  
Before we part I'd bet a crown  
  
He'd be fain to follow it yet."  
  
A thousand years or no, the Lady Rose certainly had a beautiful voice. Sebastien, of all people, was accompanying her expertly on the piano as she sang softly, careful not to drown out the conversation. It wasn't precisely a Christmas tune, but it was a winter song, and beautiful to boot.  
  
Morgan and Ronan and Damien and a few others, including the dark-haired trio, had joined her after the first two songs. They'd sang a few hymns together, drawing the attention of the entire crowd, and now Rose was back to singing solo again. Normally it was the sort of occupation that was reserved for the entertainment class, and the only folk of that sort Holtz saw were the dark-haired trio. Still...  
  
"All hail to the days that merit more praise..."  
  
He looked around again. She'd drawn more of a crowd this time to sing with her... and now he saw why. She was beckoning people to her, seeming to know who could hold a tune and who could not, and she was not taking no for an answer.  
  
Blue eyes caught and held his as he realized abruptly that she was waiting for him. He shook his head vehemently. He did not sing. Not in front of others, anyway. She smiled slightly, eyes pleading gently for him to join them. Out of politeness' sake none of the other singers were helping her, but even so it was hard enough for him to resist. Still, he shook his head. She chuckled softly, shrugged, and went on.  
  
"God rest ye merry Gentlemen  
  
Let nothing you dismay  
  
Remember Christ our Savior  
  
Was born on Christmas day..."  
  
Holtz leaned back, grateful for the reprieve and for the good singing. The lighting was starting to give the room a sort of warm, pleasent golden glow. He wasn't sure if it was the wine or the exhaustion... or the fact that, finally, he was able to relax.  
  
He hadn't realized until he had stepped through the doors of the manse, and not even really then, how alien the world he had been thrown into was. He hadn't realized what he was getting into until he found himself back in familiar surroundings, albeit richer than he was used to. The world two centuries into the future that the demon had thrust him into was brighter, faster, louder, ruder.. more violent and vicious and unforgiving than even he was used to. The guns, the weapons of such destructive power that even he was taken aback by it (though still disappointed that Angelus and Darla had escaped their just ends).  
  
Here in Rose's home, things were quiet again. There wasn't the constant shrilling and humming of background noise; in fact, the only background noise was the quiet buzz of conversation and the soft singing, which he was quite prepared to deal with. It was an immense relief, one he didn't notice until he was in the middle of it. He knew he should reject it, in case it made him soft. For the moment, however, he didn't care.  
  
"Lully lulla  
  
Thou little tiny child  
  
By by lully lulla..."  
  
Holtz smiled slightly. He did remember that song; it was one he had sung himself, to his daughter, at Christmas time. Rose and Morgan and two other women he vaguely recognized were singing it now. He allowed himself the luxury of letting the music wash over him, letting himself drift in the familiar settings and the slight drowsiness of too much wine and good, rich food. He found himself singing along.  
  
"The Holly and the Ivy  
  
When they are both full grown  
  
Of all the trees that are in the wood  
  
The holly bears the crown."  
  
The round, as the name might have suggested, went around the room. Holtz found himself pleased by how many of the folk gathered could sing. It echoed pleasently throughout the room, varying just enough in pitch to be pleasing and resonating in a beautiful manner even after the last person had dropped.  
  
* * *  
  
The singing continued for another hour or so, at which point several of the young women conspired to pull the young men into a dance. This, it actuallly appeared, was more Caitlin and a young woman named Viola's idea than any of the young men's. Morgan's recruitment of her father brought the next generation into it, and before Holtz knew what was happening to him he found himself doing a variant on a Moresca with Rose, who was smiling ruefully.  
  
"I am not responsible for this," she said softly, chuckling.  
  
"I think it was actually an excuse on Caitlin's part, to ensnare Ronan and Morgan," Holtz glanced over at the couple, and Rose followed his gaze. Then she chuckled again.  
  
"Yes... you noticed that too." She smiled. "It will be good for both of them, I think, even if it never goes beyond the stage of courtship. Ronan has not, you may have noticed, been the most social over the past few years, due to.. well. Due to his past."  
  
Holtz nodded slowly. He didn't know the specific causes, but he could empathize. "He seemed to be under the impression that he would be summarily tossed out on his ear," he said dryly. Rose noddd slowly.  
  
"That's not entirely inaccurate, actually. There was a time when he would have; he ... made some bad choices in friends." Her tone suggested she was putting it extremely mildly and delicately, reserving Ronan the right to tell his story. Holtz nodded, respecting the privacy of the young man.  
  
"That... sounds all too familiar," Holtz commented slightly bitterly as they broke from the dance and moved off to one side. Rose seemed to be at least grateful for the break from the activity.  
  
"I think it sounds all too familiar to most of us," she said wryly. "We all have made bad decisions in our lives." She looked around the room.  
  
"You know all their stories?" he asked quietly. She nodded, still looking out over the dancing cluster.  
  
"And then some. Most of those here have known me for some time, and those that haven't I have been... watching, at the request of someone close to them. Or, sometimes, close to me." She didn't explain her enigmatic statement, and Holtz wasn't sure he wanted her to. He had the suspicion he came under that last category. And he was starting to figure out where he knew her from.  
  
There really was no way to approach this delicately. "Are you truly a thousand years old?"  
  
She shrugged slightly, still watching the dancers, and poured herself a small glass of water. "More or less."  
  
He wasn't entirely sure how to take her matter-of-fact affirmation, so he kept going. "And you are a sorceress..."  
  
She nodded. "More out of self-defense. My longevity is actually unexplained; I began studying the sorcerous arts some twenty years after I realized I had ceased to age simply out of the idea that, if I was going to be run out of towns on a regular basis for witchcraft or sorcery, I might as well be one."  
  
Holtz nodded slowly again, not entirely understanding. "But you do not practice the black arts..."  
  
She chuckled softly, and actually looked at him for the first time. "Daniel, if you are asking if I sacrifice children or small animals or such, or dance naked under the full moon, the answer is no. If you are asking if I have powers above and beyond those of most men or women, the answer is yes. I studied, and I learned. But I do try and use them for just and righteous causes. Most times, I think, I succeed."  
  
Holtz nodded. It was slightly more familiar to him after the years of pursuing Angelus and Darla, how a person could be both a good person and still engage in magical arts. Still, it never quite allowed him to be at ease with them... until her. Rose, for some reason, seemed to have the ability to put everyone around her at ease, and he didn't think it was any product of her magics. Perhaps it was simply a result of being as long- lived as she was. Or perhaps...  
  
He shook his head. Whatever had been on the edge of his mind had fled. But he was nearer, now, to figuring this whole evening out than he had been before, he was sure of it. Soon. Within the hour, perhaps, even. Rose looked at him curiously, her blue eyes narrowed and gone slightly pale as though she was watching his thoughts. He excused himself politely and moved out of her scrutiny to think. It didn't exactly seem as if he was in danger here, but there was something awry with the entire evening... if only he could figure out what. If only he could stop feeling so damned comfortable, and think like a hunted man again. If only he could cease to be so... at peace. 


	3. The Partings

When Holtz finally learned Ronan's story, he devoutly wished he didn't. The singing had subsided for some time, and now it was left to quiet talking in corners, savoring of mildly alcoholic drinks, and the usual winding down of the evening. It had been a long time since Holtz had been in such company. He could not believe how relaxing it was... or how much he'd missed it. The new world was so harsh, so alien. This world, even if it was a world he wasn't used to, was more like his home than anything had been recently.  
  
He was so relaxed, in fact, that he didn't notice the blonde man come through the door until it was too late. At least, that was the impression he got. He was the last to leap to his feet. By the time everyone else had moved, Rose had pushed past everyone to glare blue daggers at the man. Ronan had almost immediately dived behind her and Morgan (why Morgan? it occured to him to wonder). The three siblings ranged themselves along the room, blocking what was not already blocked by Morgan and her father, and Rose. Everyone else... well, few of them seemed to know what was going on, but half of them appeared to be reaching for concealed daggers or something. It was the other half that worried Holtz.  
  
"Colin." Rose said quietly. "I did not invite you."  
  
Holtz felt the temperature in the room drop substantially.  
  
"I know..." the blond man said hesitantly. "I...."  
  
Rose flicked her fingers slightly, Holtz wasn't sure he'd've seen it if he hadn't been watching her intently. One of the brothers whose name Holtz vaguely remembered as Walter moved up to one side of the blonde man, his sister moving up to the other side.  
  
"Yes?" Rose said mildly as if nothing had happened.  
  
"I... I thought. Since it is the time of the season. I would..." The man... Colin... didn't seem to know what he meant to say. Rose stared at him, patient and inevitable. He kept stammering.  
  
"Colin." Rose interrupted him after perhaps five minutes of this. "Colin of White Reach. What do you want?" Her voice had taken on a note of authority and her stance ... well. She looked like a queen, to Holtz's eye.  
  
Evidently the others thought so too; there was a wave of resisted kneeling and bowing around the room. Oddly enough, it did not have the same effect on the strange man. He straightened up, as though addressing an equal. "Lady Rose. In the spirit of the season I have come to offer my amends for past slights and sins against members of your gathering. If I am not welcome I shall, of course, leave."  
  
Rose glanced at Ronan and Morgan. The latter nodded within a minute, but the former stared at Colin as though he wasn't sure whether or not to run or attack the blonde man with his bare hands. At last he nodded.  
  
"Say what you wish to say, then go." Rose said finally. "You were not invited, and your presence may make some of my guests... nervous." As if to underscore this statement both the man, Walter, and the woman idly juggled the throwing knife that suddenly appeared in each of their hands. Holtz suppressed a smile. He was familiar with that sort of nervousness.  
  
Colin didn't appear to take it too badly either. He bowed slightly to Rose. "As you say." He turned to Ronan, who ducked further behind Morgan. Holtz suddenly felt sorry for the man; he looked genuinely terrified, like a boy who had been hit by his father too long. Holtz had seen a few of those in his lifetime, and it never failed to instill in him a desire to beat the father until he was writhing on the ground and bloody. He looked at Conal and suddenly many things began to clear up for him. The redhead and the fair man looked nothing alike, physically, but they shared a sort of look or stance that indicated a shared history. Father and son perhaps, not in fact but in emotion. He didn't realize he'd stepped forward until Rose was in front of him, holding a hand to his chest to gently bar his way.  
  
Conal glanced at him, then at Ronan, and then he began. "I have been traveling, often, since your people and mine ceased to be at war with each other. I have been thinking, and... though my thoughts have not often been comfortable for me, they have left me with several certainties. The foremost among them being... I have wronged several people I cared for."  
  
Ronan looked skeptical, and Conal actually flinched slightly. Holtz relaxed, and Rose dropped her arm. The knives disappeared. "I ... did not exactly admit to actually caring. Most especially when it was not politic to do so. But..." he sighed, and seemed to struggle with his words. Holtz became even more confused as to what exactly was going on here. "I was bound by my position as a ruler and the positions I had put myself in, to a great extent. In some ways, I think, I was bound by them more than I might have been, through decisions I made less wisely than I might have made them. I did, truly, care... and I should not, in any circumstance, have acted as I did. And now..." he sighed. "I am most deeply regretful."  
  
Holtz stared. Ronan stared, still hiding slightly behind Morgan but more out in the open than he had been. Rose was smiling slightly, and most of the others were doing their level best not to appear interested in the conversation.  
  
"Morgan..." he turned to the woman. "I made you an offer, once, a long, long time ago. You and your father. The offer will always remain open, but... I understand that now, you are not exactly inclined to take it. I only wish... things could have worked out better. It took me far too long to realize what I wanted, and by the time I was old enough to know I was too old and had made too many mistakes to have it."  
  
Conal sighed. Everyone who was involved in the conversation was staring at him with some mixture of confusion or amazement except for Rose, who was smiling with a peculiar, small, satisfied smile.  
  
"Conal..." Ronan stepped forward, and then back again as the blonde man turned his attention to him. Everyone looked at the redhead, which made him shrink back even more. He mumbled something that might have been 'thank you.'  
  
"A chara...." Conal began. Rose shook her head.  
  
"You have said what you came to say, Conal of White Reach. Anything more, I think, would be overweening. But we thank you for your words. They will be much appreciated, in the spirit of the season." She swept a low curtsey.  
  
The blonde man bowed, turned, and left. Morgan and Ronan embraced, and stepped aside to talk with her father about what had happened. Rose smiled a bit more and turned back to the rest of her guests. Holtz was left with the distinctly disturbing feeling that something very important had happened, and he had no idea what.  
  
* * *  
  
Holtz did not even want to guess at what time it was when the small party had finally disbanded. He was the last guest to leave, having remained in an out of the way corner until everyone had gone. He was starting to figure out what was happening, and he wasn't sure if it added up to something good or bad. He had also remembered a dream that he hadn't realized up until now was significant. He glanced up at the mantle, where a vase held a single black rose. At the beginning of the evening it had held many.  
  
"I'm afraid we don't have rooms prepared, so if you're planning to stay the night..." Holtz looked up, startled. Rose was standing there, smiling slightly.  
  
"This isn't real, is it?" he asked softly. The minute he asked, he knew he had been right. Her face fell, and she looked towards the ground and nodded.  
  
"Not as you might think." She looked up, gestured around the room. "The place is real enough. It is my ... ancestral estate, I suppose. And yes, the people were real. Conal," she grimaced. "Much though I might wish he were one of my mildly bad dreams, is real."  
  
"Then I have not... have I?" He wasn't sure what to think anymore. He had thought the people, the clothing, had all been conjured up.  
  
"Have you...?"  
  
"Been brought back in time?" She stared at him, wide-eyed, for a second. Then she broke into bell-like peals of laughter which left him confused, puzzled, and even faintly annoyed. He didn't like being laughed at. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Brought back in time." Rose chuckled and shook her head. "No, that would take more power than even I have. No, you have not been brought back in time. Simply... across a few thousand miles of land and ocean. And no, we would not normally gather in this sort of fashion, but..."  
  
"But... what?" Holtz stared at her suspiciously.  
  
She sighed, stood up and looked around. For the first time that night she looked... sad. Very, deeply sad. Holtz blinked. He hadn't expected this sort of reaction. "I had hoped that this would be a sort of... Christmas present. Returning you to familiar surroundings. Taking the pressure off of you for an evening."  
  
Holtz was touched. A bit unnerved, but touched. "Why?"  
  
Rose shrugged slightly, turned and looked at him so intently that he had to look away. "Because no one should be alone at Christmas."  
  
Holtz was standing before he realized what he meant to do, standing next to her before he realized that was where he meant to go. Despite everything that had happened in the last nine years of his awareness, he was not so far gone that he did not realize what she had done for him, and said so. "Thank you," he said simply.  
  
Rose smiled, and in that moment the room suddenly seemed brighter to him, the night seemed that much more successful and pleasent. She embraced him softly, kissing him briefly on the cheek. "You are very welcome." Walking slightly past him and reaching out, she plucked the last rose from the mantle. "And you had better go home now, before you are missed."  
  
They both knew who she was talking about. Holtz scowled slightly; he didn't like the demon, he didn't like the demon's methods, and he needed to do something about both of them, soon. He took the rose from her, his expression softening. "It was you, wasn't it. That night."  
  
She nodded, not bothering to ask what he meant. "I meant what I said then. And I hope you take my words to heart now."  
  
He nodded slowly. "I will... try." He took the rose.  
  
"You know what to do if you need me."  
  
He nodded. "I know." He moved towards the doorway.  
  
"Daniel."  
  
He turned.  
  
"Be careful."  
  
He smiled slightly. "Merry Christmas, Rose. God be with you." 


End file.
